


somewhere

by savvmeister



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guzma Redemption, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Redemption, There will be violence, and my children are too pure for this world, e.g. ravenous malasada eating done by malasada jr. himself, if you came here for sexy times don't ever talk to me or my son or my children again, kids will be kids, lots of hugging because it is good for the soul, my children are 10/11 there will be nO KISSING, okay actually there will be affectionate smooches, so that was a small lie, that absolute madman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvmeister/pseuds/savvmeister
Summary: You knew that somewhere, somehow, everything would be okay.And you knew he would be too.Thus, Alola, Alola: a heartbreaking goodbye can also mean a sincere hello.(in which a mere child too stubborn for her own good explores what it means to be the leader of team skull)(in which a former gang leader too bullheaded for his own good explores what it means to be the savior of alola)





	1. Alola, Alola

You weren’t sure how many days had passed since you had become champion of the Alola region. You could count on your fingers, your toes, Ziggy’s claws, Nymph’s ribbons, Drogon’s scales (as long as you didn’t touch his frills of course, because then he would narrow his eyes and growl like he would never forgive you—until you stuck your hand in your pocket and emerged with a palm full of rainbow beans), the coarse braids that had become tangled in Buchanan’s mane, the number of seconds Captain Zaps could stay levitated up on his tail (forever and ever and ever!), the stars in Nebby that sometimes swirled into constellations, the number of times Roto said “Zzt!” in a sentence, or maybe even by the stripes on Phoebe’s beak and still the days would pass by in a blur, a smear of colors and sounds and feelings (like jubilation, a new word the Professor taught you!) 

You could count the days and hours and minutes and seconds since you had been uprooted from Kanto and plopped into Alola. You could count the days and hours and minutes and seconds since you met Kukui and Ziggy and Hau and Lillie and Phoebe. You could count the days and hours and minutes and seconds since you dove head first into Ultra Space and proved to Lusamine that Lillie _was_ strong enough and together you and your companion were a force to be reckoned with. 

Other times you got tired of counting. When Lillie went away, she took half of your heart with her. Hau always seemed to be busy. You wondered if deep down he was mad at you because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to best you in battle. And that made you feel absolutely horrible. Once you had thought about throwing a battle but… 

You couldn’t let your team down for they certainly never let you down. You had come so far together in that blur. And, on bad days when you thought Hau would leave you like Lillie had and your stomach was sick and your insides wound tight, Hau would beam and take your hands in his and promise that the two of you would always be together forever no matter what. 

(Although, sometimes you wished that your team would let you down by not sleeping on your bed anymore. It was hard enough to fit Drogon in your room let alone _on your bed with everyone else._ You tried to explain to your mother that is wasn’t your fault the third time you ordered a new bed, but actually the fault of your possessive, clingy, overbearing children. Motherhood was weird.) 

After your championship there had been more traveling, strengthening your team, fighting and capturing Ultra Beasts, getting Looker and Anabel's phone numbers, helping the Professor with field work, Holo Caster dates with Lillie, and…him. 

“ _I ain’t never gonna ask you to forgive me, so don’t get it twisted—this is no apology!”_

You had been caught in a rainstorm when you ran into the enigma that was Team Skull’s Ex-Leader after the whole Ultra Beast fiasco. You had been on your way home when the howling gale had struck. In order to avoid getting pelted by the down pouring sheets of rain, you had taken shelter in a nearby house. You had been there once before at the beginning of your journey around Alola. The couple inside had seemed nice enough although there was something…off about the household. There had been the unsettling dusty bedroom, the misshapen golf clubs, the ominous words of the husband and wife that lived there (although they told you to come back anytime, and you thought you would take them up on that because the woman had baked you cookies!). For a house so full of furniture, trophies, and photographs it seemed oddly vacant. 

You hadn’t expected to barrel into someone upon entering the home or for that person to be Big Bad Guzma. 

At first you had stared at one another as if the other had grown a second head. You had tumbled back and landed hard on your tailbone and began to stammer out an apology when a noise from the kitchen broke the stare off. Guzma had tensed, looked over his shoulder, and grabbed you by the back of your shirt to haul you to your feet before dragging you outside, grumbling under his breath.

 _“You little brat!”_ _He snarled once the both of you were on the porch. He bent down so his face was right in yours. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find Guzma intimidating and the initial shock of running into him in that strange household overcame the possibility of his words stinging on your skin. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but I actually need to talk to you. Once the rain clears, get your rear over to the Hau’oli City Beachfront!”_

_“O…kay…?” You replied uneasily. The way Guzma kept peeking behind him was unnerving._

_“Now scram!”_

You expected the door to slam behind him but it never came. And you were left to your own devices on his porch.

At least you were out of the rain!

The rain cleared. You battled. It had been close for Guzma had grown stronger and beefed up his team since their last encounter but you inevitably won and Guzma inevitably tugged on his hair and hollered. 

Hala coming out of no where had been a surprise, but you had learned to expect that sort of thing from Hala. Guzma handing over a Dawn Stone, however, had been the true surprise. 

“ _I got it for my first every victory and it’s always been like my lucky charm.”_

You had gaped down at the Dawn Stone in awe, turning it over in your hands and watching it glisten in the afternoon sun. You stowed it away in your bag as gingerly as your could—it was something precious and something you would treasure forever—and you flung yourself at Guzma. 

_“Thank you!” you exclaimed, hugging a very shocked Guzma. “I will always keep it in my heart!”_

_“Alright, alright, let go of me.” A blushing Guzma shook you off and headed off after Hala._

_“Wait! Will I get to see you again?”_

_Guzma didn’t turn around._

You had headed off to Poni Island after that to explore. You had hoped you would run into Hau but, upon working your way through the Battle Tree, found out he was in Iki town. You had decided it best to return to Melemele after that, hoping you would be able to see both him and your mother more often (and maybe finally get her to unpack all those boxes, your mother could even procrastinate procrastinating) when you weren’t working up at the League to defend your position. 

You didn't get to see Hau as often as you hoped and Lillie was becoming busier and busier in Kanto but it was alright! You had your mom! Your Pokémon! Professor Kukui! And! You could be! Your own! Best friend! In the meantime! 

Things were exciting! There was still so much to see, to do! 

You could count on her fingers, your toes, your Pokémon’s feathers and scales, whiskers and claws, spots and stars and still come up with things to do on just Melemele Island. Sure you weren’t sure exactly how many days had been smudged into one since you became champion of the Alola region. Sometimes you liked to compare it to finger painting or how the shimmering of Nymph’s Dazzling Gleam could transform into a bombardment of twinkling streaks. What mattered was at night time when Phoebe perched on your headboard, when Zaps curled around your head, when Nymph paced in little circles while settling down at your side, when Buchanan rested either on his hooves or sprawled out on the floor with his head at your feet, when Ziggy wound up in a ball as if he still was a Litten and not a hulking, six foot tall bipedal feline (on nights when he was in a mood he would lay with his back to them all on the floor which you did not entirely mind for you was squished enough as it was), when Drogon would somehow spiral and coil to miraculously fit in your room and plop his enormous head down at the base of your already creaking bed, was that they were all together—feathers, stripes, fur, ribbons, hooves, claws, scales, fingers, toes, and all. 

 

 

 

You awoke in a Poképile. Phoebe was staring down at you from her perch on your headboard, eyes wide and unwavering. 

“Did you seriously watch me sleep all night long again?” 

Whether she did or did not, you would never know. Phoebe turned and began to preen. 

You started each day the same: greet each member of your team with a scratch in their favorite spot and kind words of encouragement. If you managed to squirm out from under Ziggy who unavoidably sprawled out over your legs in the middle of the night, you would navigate around Drogon to your closet to change. Once dressed, your team was to return to their Pokéballs to make getting around the house and eating breakfast more efficient. This morning is no different. 

You dress quickly, opting for blue shorts instead of your usual green, pulling on your socks, lacing up your shoes, and donning your signature hat. You put your team up, leave your room, grab a quick bite to eat, make sure to pet Meowth and feed him a few Pokébeans to placate him, and tell your mother you're going out—but she is your mother, immensely wise with motherly wisdom and is all seeing and all understanding. It’s a Tuesday, and Tuesdays are the most special days of the week. On Tuesdays Hau is home! 

You had a schedule, a routine. Tuesdays were days to be cherished because those most fabulous days meant smiles and laughter and hugs. Tuesdays meant racing Hau around Iki town and going on malasada runs. Tuesdays meant mornings spent down by the beach with the Alola sun radiant on your already sun-kissed skin, splashing in the ocean, seeing who could toss the Pyukumuku’s that came wriggling up onto the shoreline the farthest back into the water. Tuesdays meant friendly Pokémon battles under the moon and then stargazing, hands intertwined and pointing out different constellations—some old, some new, some made up just for fun.

But first came your morning route. As champion of Alola, it was your sacred duty to make sure everything on Melemele island was in tip top shape. The Pokémon! The people! The rolling hills and cliffside! 

You were traveling your way up the shoreline just outside of Hau’oli City when you approach a familiar figure. It’s not the bright red ‘X’ on the back of his jacket over the Team Skull insignia that catches your attention (although, it is a dead give away), but his slumping posture. There is an enormous bug type Pokémon beside him (that was a dead give away as well!) and the way the sunlight catches its shell and sets its silver luster ablaze makes you reminiscent of the mountain range back in Kanto. 

“Hi, Guzma!” you exclaim without thinking twice. 

Guzma tenses, his downcast eyes flying up to meet you as you rush toward him. His Golisopod rattles and clicks cautiously at the sight of you. When you are close enough, you dig around in your pocket and pull out a Pokébean in offering. He chirps and digs in, mandibles clacking and the way the purple feelers on his mouth tickle your palm make you laugh at the thrill of it all. 

“What do you want?” 

When your eyes finally meet Guzma’s it’s rather difficult not to reel back in shock. There’s a deep purple bruise that has blossomed in a blotchy crescent moon around his eye. 

“What are you lookin’ at?” he snaps. “Didn’tcha mom ever teach you any manners?” 

His hair is extremely unkempt and the bags under his eyes are darker than usual. He grunts and stuffs his hands into his pockets and casts his eyes down at the ground under your inquisitive gaze. 

“What happened? Are you alright?” 

“None ya business,” he says out of the corner of his mouth as he frowns. “Scram, kid—me and my Golisopod were havin’ a dandy ol’ time till you showed up.” 

You wring your hands and your words escape you. You had thought you wanted to thank him again for his lucky charm but it appeared that he might need it back. You felt sick. 

“I said scram, ya hear?” Guzma repeats. “You wanna get a poundin’?” 

It’s only a halfhearted threat. He seems almost docile the more you look at him. His deep voice is more gravely than usual as if he has a few pebbles lodged in his throat. There’s a bruise on his neck as well, you realize, and you feel your heart nearly come to a screeching halt when you think you can make out the outline of someone’s fingers.

“Did someone hurt you?” You can’t help but ask when your voice finally returns. Your hand flies to your Pokébelt and, for some reason, this makes Guzma chuckle.

“What are ya gonna do?” Guzma asks. “You’re about as imitating as a growlin’ Pichu.” 

You scrunch up your nose at him. “Am not. I can be plenty if I want to be!”

Guzma ruffles his hair and spreads his arms. “Prove it then, kid. C’mon at me!” 

The fire that had ignited within you at the sorry sight of Guzma simmers. “Oh, I don’t want to do that. You’re my friend! I guess I could battle you if you really want me to.” 

Guzma’s expression sours. “Why? So you can grind me inta dust beneath your shoe like you usually do?” 

You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “Well, to be honest, you almost beat me on the beach last time we battled. You’re really strong!”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah. Sure.”

Once again you’re at a loss of words. So, thinking as Hau would at a time like this, you beam up at Guzma. “Hey! You want to get some malasada? My treat!” 

He stares at you blankly. “Why would I want to do that.” 

You scramble for a reason besides the fact that it would be fun. You need to act like an adult to impress him. “Uhm, because it would be…a…a _jovial_ time!” 

You almost pump your fist in the air. Nailed it. 

He keeps staring at you in that blank way that really isn’t that blank at all for Guzma isn’t very great at being blank. He’s far greater at other things, far greater at anger and sharp words and twisted expressions that can cut down to your bone. 

And, you believe, Guzma is very great at hurting. Not in the act itself (though, you suppose he’s probably very proficient due to his towering height and broad shoulders), but at the kind of hurt that steals your breath and shakes your core. The kind of unrelenting hurt that lingers in the daylight and at night like a Haunter in your bedroom. You can tell by the way his usually captivating and powerful gray eyes are stormy. You can tell by the way the muscles in his arms are taut and his posture stiffens like his spine was replaced by a the trunk of a Trevenant. 

“I ain’t askin’ for your pity,” he spits. 

You make like a Steelix and _steel_ your resolve. You maintain your composure and attempt to not to laugh at your own dumb joke. “I thought it would be nice to get to know you better. Your Golisopod sure seems to like me! And I promise it’s not just the Pokébeans in my pocket!” 

Although, you doubt that isn’t completely true as Golisopod snuffles at your shorts affectionately. You try not to crack a smile but it is proving to be rather difficult. 

Guzma rolls his eyes.

“Oh!” You perk up as you remember why you had been so excited to see him in the first place. You shove a hand into your bag and fish around, hooking your fingers on his present when you find it. You hold it out to him, gesturing for him to extend his hand out as well. Guzma cocks and eyebrow but decides to humor you. You unclasp your hand and drop the contents into his hand, revealing the bracelet you made him out of thread.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” You tell him cheerfully. “I made it out of the same colors of the Dawn Stone you gave me, see?” You point as if it’s obvious—which it of course is. “Think of it as a lucky charm from me since you gave me yours!”

Guzma looks unsure as he pockets the bracelet. “Uh…thanks.” 

You try not to feel sad when he pivots and begins to walk down the shoreline back the way he came. 

“Okay! Well, see you around?”

Guzma hunches in on himself as he strolls further away. 

“Alright, alright,” you tell the Golisopod when he’s still nudging against your side instead of following after his trainer. You dig out another Pokébean and whisper to him how spoiled his is and to not tell Guzma. Golisopod clicks and rubs his huge head against your hand. You give him an appreciative pat before he lumbers away and you know that if anyone will look out for Guzma, the arthropod certainly will.

 

 

 

“I ran into Guzma today,” you tell Hau. 

It’s the best part of Tuesday. You are sitting up on the cliffside in east Melemele when the words spilled out of you in a torrent. Hau, who had been attempting to style your hair like his, pauses his ministrations. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You suddenly feel awkward and strange as if you have shared something immensely private. You try to keep your hands busy, pulling at the surrounding tufts of grass in agitation. You are no longer able to sit still. Your stomach churns and your skin prickles at the thought of the big nasty bruise Guzma had been sporting and his lack of usual spunk.

“What about it?” 

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, closing your eyes and allowing the Alola breeze to gust over you. It tosses your hair and sends ripples through the fabric of your clothes. The light air smells nice, like sun and surf and change. Only when you are enveloped in comfort do you continue.

“He…he had a big bruise on his face. Do you think someone’s being mean to him? Should we try to help him?”

Hau made a noncommittal noise. 

“Hau, I’m serious.” You simultaneously wish you could turn to look at him but are thankful you can’t. Your insides are in knots and your heart is racing. Your not sure why the submissive way Guzma was acting combined with the bruise on his face makes you feel like the ground has dropped out from underneath you, but—as your hands clamp down and twist a particularly thick clump of grass—you wish you could escape the coldness in your blood.  

“My gramps says that sometimes, when they train,” Hau begins slowly as if it’s a very important secret, “he has three eyes and grows two extra legs.”  

“What? No way!” 

“Man oh man oh ma-a-an! Gramps says it’s because he went to Ultra Space.” Hau elbows you. “Ya sure you haven’t been growing extra fingers and toes in your sleep?” 

_“Hau!”_

“Aue!” Hau bursts into laughter. “I know I can always count on you to react, Moon!” 

You can’t help but giggle too; the thought of waking up with extra digits is so ridiculous to you. But, you find your laughter cut short at the thought of Guzma with that big shiner on his face. 

“Hey.” Hau’s voice softens as he finishes pulling your hair back with the Exeggutor clips. He scoots up beside you and throws an arm over your shoulders. “I’ll ask my gramps if he got it when he showed up for training last. I’m sure he’s just fine. He’s big and bad remember?” 

You bob your head. 

“Seriously,” Hau continued solemnly. “He is one _bi-i-ig_ dude. And scary! I don’t ever want to fight him ever again!”  

Hau is very great and very agreeable. You hope that if his personality rubs off on you, one day, you’ll be nearly as great as he is. You decide to pay Hau back, tickling his sides with exuberance and he squawks like a Toucannon; the urge to release the ball of tension that has been wound within you is far too high and the urge to hear Hau laugh is even greater (but not nearly as great as he is). When he retaliates and aims for your ribs, you squeal and try to peel yourself out from under his arms but he holds fast and refuses to let go. Together you topple into the grass in a pile of squirming limbs and high-pitched laughter, eventually both tuckering out and giggling with your foreheads pressed together beneath the Alola sun. 

"It'll be okay, Moon. My gramps will sort everything out."

You nod and, when the both of you eventually climb to your feet to race down the cliffside back toward Iki Town, you know deep down things will be even if you have to make them be alright yourself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO
> 
> i have fallen head over heels in love with this game
> 
> i have fallen into pkm sumo hell and i cannot get up
> 
> I have a lot of big plans for this story so I hope you all will enjoy! We will be exploring characters, redemption arcs, and even some super hero work as some big bads are thrown into the mix!!! I plan to update as soon as possible. I have two exams wednesday and then another exam next tuesday so hopefully i will have the next chapter up very soon!
> 
> (but knowing me and my uni schedule from hell who knows)
> 
> Alola,
> 
> -Sav


	2. Monochrome (It Shines Like Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn that not everyone wants to be Guzma's friend (which is weird because he has REALLY cool earrings!!!).

As usual, you awake in a Poképile. You can feel Phoebe’s stare boring a hole through your skull and you contemplate whether or not it’s worth chastising her. No matter what you say, she will continue her strange practice and who are you to scold tradition? 

You have a schedule, a routine. You have adoring Pokémon who’s weight is currently threatening to break both of your legs. When you sit up, instead of reprimanding him, you give Drogon’s nose an affectionate scritch-scratch while shaking out the needly numbness in your limbs. 

For an instant you're startled when you realize you are not in your bed but on the floor of Hala’s massive sitting room. You take a second to remember what occurred last night—star gazing through holes in a blanket, the gentle cadence of Hau’s heart, and the soft hush-rush of the sea—and a stab of longing strikes you for you know that Hau is already gone. Your arms and legs are replaced with lead and your chest feels even heavier. 

You feign a smile when Hala asks you to come greet the morning with him and try not to think about how devastatingly far away next Tuesday is. 

Since becoming champion, you have decided to start spending more time with the kahuna not only to get to know him better, but, as the Professor would say, “to continue your friendship with Hau vicariously through him,” whatever _that_ meant. On the mornings that are not the best day of the week, you accompany him down to the beach front on the outskirts of Hau’oli City to salute the sun and try to follow along in his morning exercises. Your team enjoys splashing in the waves (except Ziggy, Hala’s exercises were the only thing he doesn’t pretend to be above) and you get to watch the sun crawl up over the horizon and bathe in the first glimmering sunlight of the day. It’s a win-win! 

And—you think with a devilish grin as you follow Hala’s footwork, your body folding in a sun salutation—it gives you time to plot how you’re going to spend time with Guzma today. 

You think about showing up at his door but you don’t know how much time he spends at home. You assume he spends less time than you do at home (it is your home, after all, and you get to do home things there and mother-daughter things and occasionally mother-daughter-Meowth things. But you believe Guzma is an adult because of his height and the fact that he is very exceptional, which are both attributes of adult things. You can only guess he spends less time at home doing home things and more times out doing adult things like any other practical adult.). You also assume that he will probably be out walking the beach again like the previous morning and you can’t help but wonder if he is fond of routines as well. If so, the only solution is to lie a trap in his natural habitat and/or environment! 

You’ll have to tell Professor Kukui your clever revelations later. You know he would be super proud of you for applying your Pokémon catching skills to real life situations. Maybe you would get a Kukui point (and then you might need a new sticker book!!!)!

You’re so excited when your exercises are over that you throw yourself into Hala’s arms to thank him for such a wonderful morning. He chuckles and ruffles your hair affectionately, shouting after you when you rush off to enact your plan. 

That’s how you ended up squatting behind some rocks for two hours waiting for Guzma to wander down the beach front and a shirt full of sand when a wild Staryu sprang up out of nowhere, nearly causing you to blow your cover and shriek at the top of your lungs. 

Luckily, Guzma wasn't there yet so you had time to wrangle the rascal into a Pokéball. You decide to call them Jumpsie. 

After spending five more hours waiting for Guzma within the time span of ten minutes, a loud splash causes you to dart up and peek over the rock you're nestled behind. You grin when you spot a huge Golisopod romping around further down the coastline.  

You get to your feet. This time, you would outsmart Guzma for sure. As you wave and call out to him, you tighten your grip on the bag of malasada you had brought for the both of you (and one for his Golisopod, of course! They were buy one get on free at the counter, a deal you would have been _crazy_ to refuse). Instead of Guzma going with you to get malasada, you had brought the malasada to him. He was going to sit down with you and eat it whether he liked it or not. 

After you asked him politely, of course! 

“Hi, Guzma!” You rock on the balls of your feet because you are unable to stifle your excitement. You try not to break into a full out happy dance but it’s proving to be rather difficult, especially when Golisopod is drooling on your shoulder and one of your hands is occupied with the most scrumptious delicacy on all of Alola. You pin your arm behind your back in order to keep it a surprise. 

“What do you want?” Guzma gripes. He doesn’t sound annoyed exactly, just tired.  

Your insides don’t drop to your feet like they did last time (although they still jump headfirst into the pit of your stomach). The side of Guzma’s face is still discolored, but not nearly as devastatingly purple as it was yesterday. He looks extremely unhappy, like he hasn’t slept in several days, and your stomach flip-flops at the sorry sight of him. Nerves pierce your skin like thorns and your fingernails dig into your palms as your hands tighten into anxious fists. For a moment you are unsure, but your thoughts drift to Hau and what he would do. Then you realize you shouldn’t overthink and do what you do best—just doing. 

Guzma freezes when you embrace him, arms tight around his waist and head canted up to beam at him as if your joy can chase his rainclouds away. “I missed you! How have you been?” 

For a brief second, Guzma looks taken aback but a mix of emotions quickly flit over his face as it screws up into a scowl—surprise, embarrassment, nerves, and then frustration.

“H-Hey! Knock it off, twerp.” He pries you off of him and scoots away. “Don’t try to soften me up with your affection—I’m tough as hell and nothin’ ain’t ever gonna change _that!”_  

Guzma turns his head angrily and stares off over the horizon. You can tell that his face has gone pink. You try your best not to look smug but, as you feel a complacent smile tugging your lips upwards, you chirp, “Sure thing, Guzma!”

Guzma refuses to look at you. His Golisopod, on the other hand, has devoted his undivided attention to you. He knocks his head against your shoulder in an attempt to get at the bag behind your back and nearly sends you tumbling into the sand. You shush him and pacify him with a few Pokébeans. You don’t blame him though: no one could resist the sweet aroma of malasada or the temptation to eat every flavor! 

“You know, Guzma,” you begin, “You don’t have to _have_ to act tough to be my friend. I like you just the way you are.” 

Guzma huffs and ruffles his hair in a display of irritation. The rapidly growing color on his flushed cheeks say otherwise. 

You continue with a small laugh. “Besides, I like your Golisopod just the way he is, even if he’s all drooly!” 

“Yeah, well maybe if you stopped tryin’ to earn his favor by fattenin’ ‘im up, things would be different,” Guzma snaps. 

You shake your head in disagreement and coo to the massive arthropod that’s plopped down beside you. “Nah. You’re just a big baby, aren’t you Golisopod? You’re just a big handsome boy!” 

The Golisopod melts under your touch as you scratch at his plating. 

“What do you want?” Guzma grumbles. 

“Oh!” You remember the bag of food behind you. You pull your arm forward and Golisopod follows and paws at the bag as you try to hold it out of his reach. “Right! I bought some malasada! One for me, one your you, one for you Golisopod, and one for Nymph! She was so super good at training yesterday and your Golisopod is such a good boy, I figured they both needed a treat as well!” 

Guzma gives you that blank stare from yesterday again (and you’re reminded that he’s not at all good at being blank, but many other different and wonderful things) and ruts a hand through his shock of hair that luminous in the Alola sun. He snags the bag out of your hand, peeks at the contents, and hands it back to you with a passive expression. 

“‘Ight.”  

He slumps over toward the breaker wall and you can’t help but squeal under your breath, do a tiny jig in order to release the tight coil of jubilation—another word from the professor!—that had been threatening to bubble out of you (instead it rises in a fluttering eruption of hundreds of Butterfrees), and chase after him. You make quick work of clicking Nymph’s Pokéball from your belt and she springs free and lands with all of the grace a fairy type can possess. Her hackles raise and her spine arches defensively when she sees the giant Golisopod lumbering after you but, with a quick pat to assure her it’s alright and decisive sniff to the arthropod, they become fast friends. How can anything but friendship occur when there is malasada involved?

You seat yourself in the sand at Guzma’s side and hand out the malasada. His Golisopod swipes his malasada from you just as it’s barely out of the bag while Nymph closes her mouth delicately on the meal and skips away happily to eat by the water. By the time you’re handing Guzma his, he has to shove his greedy Pokémon off of him.

“Yo! Go strut your stuff somewhere else, you big lump!” 

The Golisopod clacks his mandibles together and follows your precious Nymphy-Wimphy with dissatisfied chatter. 

You try to tell Guzma how glad you are that he’s with you but he rolls his eyes and cuts you off. 

“Yeah, don’t get in in your brain that I’m stickin’ around cuz I ain’t.” 

You don’t let his response bring you down. You’re sitting with one of your great friends eating malasada in the Alola sun! “Big plans today?” 

Guzma shrugs. “Plenty.” 

As he takes a testy nibble of his malasada he frowns and you’re not completely sure why. Frowning is strictly reserved for sad times and this is certainly not a sad time. It’s a happy one! 

You sit there in awkward silence. Nymph and Golisopod are chasing each other around on the sand and sparing, Nymph’s ribbons rippling and Golisopod’s armor glistening like those great silver summits you're so accustomed too (Peak, you decided to call him in your head), and you don’t like the feeling that creeps over you. It starts at your toes and crawls up over your legs and the sensation scales and sinks into your torso but it does nothing to soothe the erratic battering of your heart. 

“What’s your favorite color?!” you blurt. 

Guzma glimpses at you in-between bites. “Why?” 

His response mollifies the hammering in your chest. “Well…” you begin, trailing off as you collect your thoughts. “I don’t really know you that well. But I want to!”

“Why?” His voice grates on your confidence and apprehension escapes the source of friction like puffs of smoke but you don’t let the gruffness of his voice deter you. 

“Because I want to get to know you better, silly!” you tell him as if it’s extremely obvious (which it is). “Want to know mine?” 

He opens his mouth to make a snappy retort but you don’t give him a chance to respond. You nearly trip over yourself in your excitement. “Blue! But not like the water or daytime even those are nice too! But like the sky at twilight when the first puzzle pieces of constellations begin to appear.” 

Although, the longer you’re with Guzma, you think your new favorite color might be the gray of his eyes like storm clouds billowing up in smoky castles on the horizon. You like to think the hardness of his features smooth out to reveal what lies behind the whirlwind of his eyes. You want to think that Guzma isn’t some unpleasant, prickly thing knotted and wound in on itself and is actually like his eyes: the gray of the ocean an instant before dawn's first rays strike the water. When he’s angry, you like to imagine they’re the last ashes of a fire tossed up into the breeze. You don’t tell him this, but you wish you could. 

You watch as he pauses and slowly chews at his mouthful of malasada. “Purple.” 

“‘Purple?’” you echo. 

“There a problem with that?” 

“No!” you assure him happily, finishing off your meal. “I think that’s a great color.”

A moment passes and is carried off by the gentle summer breeze. Against your will, your time with Guzma becomes sour when hefty feet approach and voice speaks their revulsion. 

“You have some guts showing your face around here, don’t you?” 

You cant your head up and the sight of an adult in a floral shirt greets you. They are familiar—you’ve seen them before bumming around the main city sometimes in the coffee shops or over by the marina and they’ve always been kind—and their normally cheerful disposition has been erased by what can only be described as revulsion. There’s a bad taste in your mouth at the sight of their contorted features and you’re faintly reminded of Miss Lusamine whenever she was addressing Lily or Gladion. It takes you a second after the initial shock of their distinct contempt to realize they’re addressing Guzma. 

Guzma doesn’t respond. Instead, he grits his teeth and his face twists into an ugly grimace. He slumps in on himself and his brow creases. He doesn’t meet their eyes, instead choosing to glare at the ground. 

In that moment he’s not the Guzma you know. 

“Don’t you know you’re not welcome around here?” they spit as they glower down at Guzma. Suddenly they reach out and snatch your hand, pulling you to your feet and a few paces away from your companion. Guzma’s only reaction is to ball his hands into fists and rub at the back of his neck with his knuckles. 

“You need to stay away from that man,” they instruct in a hiss. The flowers on their shirt are no longer friendly. Nymph, who has left Golisopod down by the water, presses into your side and arches her back. “He’s not good news.” 

“Wh-aa-what do you m-mean?” 

You knot your hands in your shirt. Their words are barbs on your skin and you feel really unpleasant which is confusing because this is supposed to be a pleasant time, you are supposed to eat malasada and talk and bond and get to know each other and spend time with Guzma to bury the overwhelming loneliness that Lily and Hau leave behind (it’s a shroud over your skin and heart and you love your team with everything you are but it’s human contact that you crave, the kind that your mother can’t give even though you also love her with everything you are and she’s one of the greatest people in the whole wide world but she’s messy and procrastinates and doesn’t follow a routine and it drives you nuts, nuts, nuts, so nuts when you think about it your hairline feels tight like your cranium is threatening to explode and you have to count on your fingers and Drogon’s scales and Nymph’s ribbons and Ziggy’s whiskers—)

The adult with the not-so-friendly flower shirt is talking to you but it’s just a drone in your ringing head like a swarm of Cutieflies have buzzed to close to your ears. Nymph has a ribbon wrapped around your leg and her teeth are bared at the ranting adult but they press on and seem unfazed by the Eeveelution. 

“—he has no chance at reforming, I don’t know what the Kahuna sees in him. Did he threaten you? Is he making you sit with him against your will? Is he—” 

There’s fire in your lungs when you finally manage to work up a coherent response. “I’m just fine, thank you!” 

You turn on your heel with a sharp pivot and stride back toward Guzma, double taking with a jolt when you realize that both the the ex-team leader and his hulking companion are missing. Nymph, on the other hand, hisses at the adult and kicks up a glittering wind until they stomp off. 

You wipe the frustrated tears out of your eyes with the back of your hand and straighten your hat. Everything is too close and too far. You’re hypersensitive to the feeling of the summer air on your skin, the awful squelch of sand beneath your feet, the way the fabric of your clothes claw at your flesh— 

“This is why you shouldn’t be seen with me.” 

Your mood peaks at the sight of Guzma behind you. He’s yanking on his hair with annoyed tugs. The more he talks the more angry he becomes and the harder he pulls. 

“Everyone looks at me like I’m nothin’. Like I’m the scum of the earth. Who woudda thunk it, huh?” His mouth curls up in disgust and his brow furrows. “Get out of here, punk.” 

In an instant the sea breeze isn’t very nice and the waves lapping at the shore aren’t so soothing. 

“Do you want to go to the Battle Tree with me?” you ask, completely off topic and utterly swamped with the events that are unfolding.

“Wha—? No!” Guzma shouts. His lips split open in a horrible, toothy grin and his eyes widen. “I toldja to get lost! You heard ‘em! I’m no good for ya! Who’d wanna hang with you anyway?!”

Nymph presses into your side again and a ribbon wraps around your leg. Guzma’s Golisopod head-butts into his back. 

“Look,” you begin to say, your throat taut with suppressed tension. You peek up at the sky. You wonder how it can remain such a calm blue at a time like this. You suck in a breath and scrunch up your eyes and the words fly out of you. “I-I…I don’t care what they say! I like hanging out with you and you’re not bothering me at all because you’re my friend and friends don’t bother one another! So I would like to keep hanging out with you whether that dummy likes it or not and only if it’s okay with you, of course!” 

Guzma stops pulling on his hair. He grumbles under his breath and hastily averts his eyes to the side and scratches at the back of his neck. He’s obviously fazed but you don’t have time for that now. You think about the thrill of battle and the need to empty the restlessness from your blood and the pressure straining against the inside of your skull. You hate the audacity of your heart and how it continues to pump when it feels like the world is closing around you. 

“So…” you say again as you wipe your eyes, “would you like to go to go to the Battle Tree with me?” 

“Right now?” Guzma’s uncharacteristically quiet. 

You nod. 

Guzma cracks a smile.  

“‘Ight. I guess I’m in the mood to give someone a good smackdown.” 

There’s the feeling of Butterfrees in the air as you beam. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! 
> 
> i can't thank you all for the kind words. they really filled my heart to the brim! <3 
> 
> i hope the next update comes sooner. I got swamped by midterms so that's why it took longer than expected. :/ uni stinks 0/10 do not recommend 
> 
> until next time! 
> 
> (also p.s. idk why there are two chapter summaries when i only wrote one so pls ignore)
> 
> -sav


	3. Suppertime Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovedisc is the most tsundere of Kukui's Pokémon.
> 
> (Maybe Guzma is related to them.)

The thrill of battle is what calms you down at times like this. 

Times where every noise is too loud and your clothes are too rough and your head pounds like the bonging of a grandfather clock.

Times where there are stares burning holes into your body from every which way and the only thing that eases the conflagration on your skin is to preclude contact. 

But, in times like this, you think that there is no greater joy in being alive: not when your blood is hammering in your ears in a way that lights your body aflame in the best way, the way that tickles and tingles and laps at your bubbling insides. It is in this moment you wonder why you didn’t ask Guzma to the Battle Tree _sooner_. 

The two of you work like a well oiled machine as you grind your way through the ranks. With each battle you scale higher and every command is serendipitous (another word from the Professor!), Guzma and his Pokémon knowing just what to do to match your every move as the two of you push forward. 

You don’t think about the person and their not at all friendly flower shirt and the mean words they said. With Guzma is by your side, all it takes is a call or a gesture and that glorious heat roars in your ears and you can feel the fibers of your nerves string up and gleam like a Christmas tree. 

After ten consecutive battles, your team’s movements have become sluggish. When the last opponent drops you know you have to call it quits. But, that doesn’t stop you from spinning around in circles and laughing and squealing at the top of your lungs. You rub your hands together as fast as you can and stomp your feet as the pair of teenagers you had been battling recall their fallen Pokémon. 

You briefly wonder if using Nebby gave you an unfair advantage but your thought is cut short when they bump up against you with a deep, rumbling purr. Just when you are calling Nebby back to their Pokéball and turning to ask Guzma if he had a good time, he gives an enthusiastic whoop and calls after your challengers. The two that had been mocking and cocky the entirety of the battle but were oddly silent when paying out their losing fee. 

“That’s right! Ain’t nobody gon mess wi’d us!” Guzma heckles. “Now ya know who to come to for a beat down!” 

You can’t help but giggle even though you know it’s a bit cruel. You’re the champion after all, you have standards to up hold! You can’t find the urge to care when Guzma is smirking and is standing taller than before—still hunched, but not drawn in on himself. You grin and are ecstatic to see some of his confidence has returned. 

“Want to battle with me again sometime?” you ask, still beside yourself with joy. 

“Heck yeah!”

You hold your fist out and Guzma is quick to strike it with and explosion sound. It’s then a bit of color catches your eye and you notice a familiar pattern of thread and chord wound around his wrist. You fight the urge to exclaim his name and throw yourself at him (just barely) and instead mimic the detonation sound and leap at him anyway. 

“We make a great team!” you cry. 

Guzma stiffens but doesn’t immediately pull away from you. Instead, he awkwardly pats your head. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright, that’s enough.” 

You step back a bit sadly but respect his space nonetheless. You take a moment to check your watch and move to summon Roto but he’s already way ahead of you. 

_“Yup! It’zz dinner time my dear girl!”_

“Okay! Let mom know I’ll be home soon.” 

_“Gotcha! Zztt!”_

You dig around in your bag for your ride pager as you walk down the steps back to the main entrance with Guzma, him strolling along in his usual slouch and your skipping and scurrying along in order to keep up with his long legs. 

“So! That was a lot of fun!” you say gleefully for nothing can weigh down the happy bobbing balloon you have become. “Do you want to come back to my house for dinner? It’s spaghetti night!” 

Guzma shrugs. 

“Oh.” You try not to let his carless answer deter you. “Busy tonight?” 

Again, he shrugs. He won’t meet your eyes. 

“My mom’s really nice!” you assure. “I know she would love you—I already do! And her Meowth is really nice too! Except he gets hair everywhere but that’s okay, so does Ziggy. Maybe we could show my mom some of our cool moves and—” You kick and punch at the air only to find Guzma has stopped walking beside you. You tilt your head in question when Guzma won’t meet your eyes. 

“I gotta go.” 

“Me too!” you reply. You’ve both been over this? You snap your fingers. “Hey! We could share a Charizard! I have my pager on me if I could just—”

Guzma pushes past you and heads out toward Poni Gauntlet.

“Wait!” Your feet beat over the ground as you hastily rush after him. “You didn’t answer my question!” 

Guzma grumbles something akin to “leave me alone” but you barely recognize it over the rush of the water on the coast.  

“Did I do something wrong?” You grab his hand. He recoils and pushes you out away from him. 

You land hard on your butt. Guzma wheels around with an angry expression on his face that swiftly dissolves into shock. 

“I-I’m okay!” you stammer out even though your eyes sting. “It’s okay, it was an accident!” 

Fingers weave into his hair and he spins quickly on his heel and hurries away. 

Roto chooses to fly out from your bag just as your hands finally close around your ride pager. You guess he's probably asking if you’re alright and commenting angrily on Guzma’s behavior but your ears are ringing and there’s a sick sinking feeling you can’t shake. You feel the balloon that is you begin to deflate.

You try not to think too much about it as you summon a your ride Pokémon. 

 

 

 

Thursday is another very amazing and very special day of the week. Thursday is a day full of crawling through underbrush until you’re pulling the remains of whippy twigs from your hair, of romping around the beach front and poking tide pools and turning rocks, of hiding in wait for a pair of wild Pokémon to start a fight, of pressing your face to glass to make faces at the water Pokémon floating around in a towering tank. In other words, Thursday is a happy, wonderful day that is spent with the happy and very wonderful and very wise Professor Kukui! 

That’s where you are now—your palms flush against the crystal and cheeks squished up against the glass, pressing fishy kisses into tank in hope that Lovedisc will finally notice you (one day!!!!) and kiss you back. Kukui chuckles at your antics from where he is doing some computer work at the front of some new and fancy machine he received from Kanto on the best day of the week (Tuesday!!! Only four more days!!!). 

Instead of army crawling through underbrush in the name of science, the professor’s time has been consumed by the new machinery. You didn’t take Kukui as a technical man (that seemed way more like Mrs. Doctor Professor Burnet Kukui Something!) but he is steadily proving you wrong which makes you happy. You love watching others succeed! 

Captain Zaps hovers next to you as he pretends to surf over the ripples in the tank. He zooms back and forth around the curve of the glass and squeaks and yips in delight when Lovedisc races away from him until the Pokémon is spinning in circles. You wish you could join in their game of tag but you can neither levitate or breathe underwater. 

Drats. 

You wonder if the Professor knew how. He knew everything after all! It seems like until you grew gills or learned how to float, you would have to keep busy clicking your lips together with little kissy noises. Zaps lands on your head and kneads your hair. You cant your head up, granting him a small boop on his snoot in the form of a smooch. He squeals and resumes zipping about. Your heart flutters and you squirm and dance in place. 

“Hey, cousin!” 

You turn your head to peek over your shoulder. “Yes?” 

“Hand me that tool box on the table, yeah?” 

“Okay!” you cheerfully comply and start over toward the table to get the tools. It’s heavier than you thought but you manage to lug it over to Kukui who takes it from your hands as if it weighs nothing. 

“Wow, Professor!” you remark. “You’re super strong! The Masked Royal has really been treating you well!”

“Well, we do train together,” Kukui quips after a bout of belly laughter. He spins a screwdriver between his fingers and dives back into his work. “Someone’s gotta be able to keep up with Professor Burnet. Whoo!” 

At his remark there is a sudden weight on your chest and it catches you off guard. How could it though, you can’t help but think, when that very weight had been heavy on your mind and gnawing at your innards and tormenting your every thought before arriving at the Professor’s place? The visit was just a distraction and no matter how temporary or drawn out it was you could not escape the coil of unpleasantness that had wound through you. 

You had done something wrong. You had upset your new friend and you didn’t know what but you had done something wrong. 

Your fists bound together and you tremble. _You had done something wrong._

“Professor? Can…can I ask you a question?” 

“Fire away,” Kukui says. He seems a bit distracted but ebullient nonetheless (cheerful and full of energy—he taught you that word today and boy are you going to put it to good use!). 

You count your breaths. _1…2…3…4…_ and prepare yourself to pick at a wound that has barely had time to scab over. 

“How do you know Guzma?” 

You watch as Kukui pauses. You can feel the air leave his lungs. 

“That’s…heh…that’s certainly a loaded question, yeah?” For once his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re usually full of them, though, aren’t you, cuz?” 

“At least I’m not asking you to explain the theory of evolution in great detail to me again,” you say with a nervous giggle. “We spent like six hours on that one!” 

“It was fun though, yeah?” 

You bob your head. “Yeah! I learned tons! I mean, I didn’t understand half of what you said but I sure do know a lot about evolution now!” With another awkward titter you pick at the hem of your shirt. “Do you…do you think people can evolve?” 

“Well, you went from wide-eyed newcomer to champ of the Alola region, didn’t you?” Kukui teasingly pokes the screwdriver in your direction. 

“Yes! But I still…” You suck on the inside of your lip and think better of answering his question. You don’t want to think about your personal idiosyncrasies (a mode of behavior or way of thought peculiar to an individual—another great Kukui word!). You decide to laugh it off with a shrug and agree with him. He is certainly very great and very agreeable after all. The Professor is probably the smartest person in the whole entire world! 

“To answer your earlier question,” His screwdriver grinds down on a piece of machinery  in order to pry apart a set of gears with a loud clunking sound— “Guzma and I…well, we grew up together here on Melemele Island. We went on our Island Trials together.” 

“Really?!” 

Kukui straightens his glasses. “Yeah. I’ve known him most of my life. After the trails we sort of split ways. Malie Garden was the first time I had seen him in years. I had heard about the stuff he had been up to, yeah, but I didn’t really think much about it until then. I guess I didn’t know…” The professor trailed off as if he suddenly thought better of what he had intended to say. 

You, however, ignore his hesitancy as he mulls things over. “‘Didn’t know’ what?” you inquire in an echo. 

Kukui fixes you with a quizzical look. “Why is this suddenly so important to you, cousin? Don’t get me wrong, I have always loved your curiosity and always will, but you didn’t seem to care too much about this before, yeah? What’s changed?” 

A lot, you think and wish to say, but once again you’re overcome with the foreign sensation of inciting something immensely private. You gulp at the thought of Guzma’s fading bruises. 

“He’s my friend,” you admit tentatively, unsure of the conflicting feelings boiling within you but absolutely certain of your words. “And he’s not being nice to himself and people aren’t being very nice to him, so I’m trying to be nice enough for the both of us.” 

Kukui takes a deep breath and sets his tools aside. He wipes the grease from his hands on a rag and faces you, twisting the ratty towel in his grip. You wish you had something to squeeze besides your own arms. 

“Cousin, you need to understand he’s done some not-so-great things,” Kukui begins carefully. Once again he straightens his glasses. “I’m not saying that whatever is happening is right, yeah, or he’s deserving of the treatment he’s receiving, but the people of Alola are upset with him.” 

You study your footwear as you mumble bashfully, “I-I know…he’s just…he’s not as bad as people think. He’s…” You gain confidence at the thought of the day you spent with Guzma and steel your resolve. “He’s actually really nice! And funny! I can feel it! He just doesn’t want people to know! Just like how I don’t want people to know stuff about me s-sometimes.” You bow your head and feel heat rise on your cheeks. “Except you and Hau and Lily, of course. A-A-And…and maybe him too if he wants to, that is.” 

Kukui ruffles your hair with a chuckle and places his hands on his hips. “That’s the champ I know and love. Just promise me you’ll be careful, yeah?” 

You nod, beam, and offer your hand. “Pinky promise!” 

The two of you lock little fingers. In the background, Captain Zaps gives a merry screech and zips over to plop down on Kukui’s head. The two of you laugh and the professor moves to get back to his work.

After several moments when the nerves still haven’t settled in your gut (this time from an entirely different thought), you speak again. 

“Hey, uhm, Professor?” 

“Yeah?” 

You wring your hands together. You know he’ll say yes—he always does—but it is always so unnerving asking him. Your muscles are pulled taught as you rub your thumb deep into your palm, smoothing out the creases of your hand and molding your thumb into the pliable flesh. You close your eyes to collect yourself and count how many whiskers your mental picture of Ziggy has before daring to continue. 

“Can I, uhm…can I…well, it’s just…” Even as you grapple with your self doubt, you still cannot come up with the right words to say. The professor seems to sense this though and a smile causes the corners of his lips to scale up his cheeks. He claps a hand down on your shoulder and kneads at your tension. 

“Take all the time you need, kiddo.” 

“It’s just…it’s just—” After another series of deep breaths and screwing up your eyes as tightly as they will twist the words come tumbling out of you. “It’s just mom didn’t clean again and there are still boxes all over the living room and it’s just a bit messy and I was hoping that I could kinda-sorta-maybe stay in the loft for the night?” 

Kukui burst into laughter. With an earnest grin he said, “You’re always welcome here, cousin! My home is your home, after all, yeah?!” 

You heave a sigh of relief and hand the professor a few more tools from his toolbox. Much like Hau, you hope that one day you’ll be half as great and as kind as Professor Kukui is. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK about you guys but protag's mom seems like she actually wouldn't be that great of a cook because she's so scatterbrained? or maybe it's a miracle that she can actually make decent spaghetti 
> 
> ANYWHO 
> 
> whoooooooooooooooooo just finished a week of exams and now i've got five more exams to prepare for this month before finals in may 
> 
> rip me 
> 
> sav

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO
> 
> i have fallen head over heels in love with this game 
> 
> i have fallen into pkm sumo hell and i cannot get up
> 
> I have a lot of big plans for this story so I hope you all will enjoy! We will be exploring characters, redemption arcs, and even some super hero work as some big bads are thrown into the mix!!! I plan to update as soon as possible. I have two exams wednesday and then another exam next tuesday so hopefully i will have the next chapter up very soon! 
> 
> (but knowing me and my uni schedule from hell who knows) 
> 
> Alola, 
> 
> -Sav


End file.
